


Ashleigh and the Apocalypse

by quackquackbi



Series: Hot Chocolate Boy/OC Series [2]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Multiple Endings, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quackquackbi/pseuds/quackquackbi
Summary: The sort-of sequel to my story, "Ashleigh and the Apotheosis". Hot Chocolate Boy/OCAshleigh's working two jobs, desperate to leave her hometown and forget her past. The fact that her hometown is Hatchetfield seems to be making that goal impossible.Features three alternate endings.
Relationships: Becky Barnes/Tom Houston, Hot Chocolate Boy/OC, Lex Foster/Ethan Green, OC & Hannah Foster, OC & Lex Foster
Series: Hot Chocolate Boy/OC Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926346
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1: The Dolls

Shivering in the cold November air, Ashleigh rubs her hands together as she waits outside the loading bay of Toy Zone, her second job. Her friend and coworker, Lex Foster, is standing off to the side smoking a cigarette, hood drawn and backpack slung over one shoulder. They’re waiting for their boss, Frank Pricely, to come out and sign for the delivery the store is expecting this morning, for those monster dolls everyone’s been talking about for months.

Instead of the delivery truck they’re expecting, however, a sedan pulls up and parks just in front of them. The man that hops out is a familiar face, though Ashleigh can’t quite place it.

“Excuse me, miss,” he calls, not looking at the girls, “do you think it’s okay for me to park here?”

Ashleigh rolls her eyes, not bothering to respond as she blows warm air onto her fingers. Lex scoffs and says, “Uh, yeah. It says  _ no parking at any time _ , but I’m sure the loading trucks can just park across the street. Does that work for you?” Ashleigh snickers quietly, wishing she was brave enough to snark at people like that.

The guy clearly doesn’t hear the sarcasm in Lex’s voice. “Yeah, that’s perf— Lex?” He turns and actually sees the girls now, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. 

“Hey, Mr. Houston,” Lex says dryly, smirking as she takes another drag of her cigarette. 

Ah. That explains why the man seems familiar to Ashleigh. He’d taught at the high school for years, and his wife had just passed away last year. Ashleigh had never taken his class— he taught shop— but he was well known enough. 

“What you doin’?” Mr. Houston asks, looking around.

“What does it look like?” Lex asks in clear annoyance. “I’m having a bud before my shift.”

“Hey, does your mother know you smoke?” Mr. Houston comes closer, concern clear on his face.

“Uh, yeah,” Lex says, chuckling. “She lets it slide ‘cause I score her weed.”

“Weed?” Mr. Houston repeats. “Lex, I thought you were done with all that. Last year, you were back in school. You were on top of your classes!”

Ashleigh tries not to roll her eyes. As much as she loves her friend,  _ on top _ was not how she’d describe Lex’s work ethic. Lex herself apparently agrees with her.

“I was hardly valedictorian,” Lex scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“You were doing alright in  _ my _ class!” Mr. Houston protests.

“Yeah, shop class,” Lex snaps. “Where you get an A if you don’t chop off your finger.”

“No,” Mr. Houston corrects, “if you show up and put in the effort, I’m not gonna hold a little accident like that against you.”

“Yeah, well, shop class was the only holding up my GPA,” Lex says, shooting her former teacher a half-glare. “So when they canceled shop class because the teacher had ‘family emergency’—” she uses air quotes, and Ashleigh winces. That seems like a low blow, even from Lex— “they flunked me. So I decided to follow the example of my favorite teacher and never come back. How does it feel to be a role model?”

“Lex,” Ashleigh says softly, seeing the pained look on Mr. Houston’s face, but she’s ignored.

“That’s not a very fair thing to say,” he mutters, turning away.

“What’s it matter?” Lex asks testily. “School’s supposed to prepare you for the workplace, and I already have a job. Or is stock girl at Toy Zone a waste of my endless potential?” She gestures to her red vest, scowling as she takes another drag.

“Toy Zone?” Mr. Houston repeats, perking back up. “You work at Toy Zone?”

Ashleigh sighs, knowing exactly where this is going. For the last six months, ever since that stupid commercial aired, this is all anyone’s cared about when they find out about Ashleigh’s second job. 

“What, do you have a problem with retail?” Ashleigh asks, annoyed. The day only seems to be getting colder, despite the sun rising over the eastern side of the mall, and Ashleigh knows she’ll have very little patience today.

“No, not at all!” Mr. Houston protests. “No, I think Toy Zone’s a great place for you to work— in fact, I’m proud of you, Lex. I always thought you had a great work ethic!”

Ashleigh snorts, and manages to pass it off as a cough when Lex glances at her. Mr. Houston doesn’t notice. 

“Yeah, well,” Lex says, side-eyeing Ashleigh still, “if I don’t support my drinking habits, who will?”

Again, it’s clearly sarcasm, but the former teacher doesn’t seem to get it. Ashleigh knows what Lex is really supporting with her paycheck, and it isn’t alcoholism— at least not for herself. 

“Yeah, that’s funny,” Mr. Houston says slowly, eyeing the two girls back and forth for a long moment. “Listen, Lex, I’m actually here to get a Christmas present for my son. It’s a Tickle-Me-Wiggly.”

Lex huffs, and Ashleigh rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t realize so many people were trying to do the same thing,” he continues, oblivious to the girls’ negative reactions. “So, uh, you think there’s anything you could do?”

“Oh!” Lex says, acting surprised. She looks around like someone else might be listening in, catching Ashleigh’s eye over Mr. Houston’s shoulder. Ashleigh smirks, once again wishing she was in Lex’s shoes.

“You mean like… put one aside for you?” Lex asks, and Mr. Houston nods, grinning hopefully. “Yeah, like put your name on it, put it under the counter, just screw over hundreds of people who got here before you?”

Mr. Houston nods again. “That would be great!”

“Yeah,” Lex says, grinning back at him, before dropping it and clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Well, you know… I could. But that would be violating company policy, and everyone’s telling me to be more responsible lately, so I’m gonna go with them on this one.”

Mr. Houston grimaces, clearly realizing the sarcasm this time.

“Oh, but hey!” Asleigh pipes up. “You could get in line like everybody else. And I’d hurry up if I were you, line’s already backed up to Nordstrum.”

“Nordstrum?” he yelps, and both girls nod. “Shit!”

He starts to hurry off. 

“Wait, are you gonna leave your car there?” Ashleigh calls out.

“Let ‘em tow it!” he yells back.

Lex scoffs. “Merry Christmas,” she yells to him, and he grumpily returns the sentiment as he disappears inside the building. The girls stand in silence for a long moment before bursting into laughter.

“What a fucking day,” Lex says. 

“And you know it’s only gonna get worse from here,” Ashleigh agrees.

“For  _ you _ maybe,” Lex teases. “You know that offer’s still open. There’s room for one more in Ethan’s car.”

“That shitty old thing?” Ashleigh scoffs. “No thanks, I’d rather take my chances here in Hatchetfield.” Lex shrugs, putting out her cigarette on the pavement as their boss joins them outside.

He’s singing a Christmas carol, but the words are messed up. Instead of singing about the birth of Jesus, he’s singing about his love of money. What a douchebag.

The delivery truck pulls up, with the company logo for Uncle Wiley’s Toys printed on either side. It parks right up close to Mr. Houston’s sedan, the driver seemingly unbothered by its presence. He jumps out of the cab and opens up the back of the truck, grabbing a dolley and starting to unload the boxes of Tickle-Me-Wiggly dolls.

Frank keeps singing to himself, something about the dolls making him rich.

“Right you are, good buddy,” the delivery guy says, smirking as he looks down at his clipboard. He counts the boxes he’s unloaded, and makes a little mark on the paper before handing it to Frank. “Now I just need your John Hancock here on the dotted line.”

“With pleasure,” Frank sighs, taking the clipboard and pen and scribbling out his signature before handing it back. 

“So that’s them, huh?” Lex asks, leaning against the wall. 

“Yep,” Frank says cheerfully. “Our own little miracle on 34th street. Tell me, girls, do you know why they call it  _ Black _ Friday?”

Ashleigh refrains from rolling her eyes, having heard the speech a hundred times. Lex lets out a dry, “Because it comes after Thursday?”

The girls snicker to themselves, quieting as Frank glares at them. “Cute,” he sneers. “They call it Black Friday because it’s the day in America when most retailers go from being in the Red—  _ losing  _ money— to being in the Black—  _ making _ money!” He wraps an arm around each of their shoulders, and Ashleigh tries not to squirm. Thankfully, the contact only lasts a few seconds before Frank moves away again, back toward the boxes of Wiggly dolls and their deliverer.

“Well, friend-o,” the guy says to Frank, “I have a feeling that these babies are gonna take you so far into the Black, that you ain’t never comin’ back.” His voice takes on an almost sinister tone there at the end, making and holding eye contact with the Toy Zone manager. 

Ashleigh shivers, and not just from the cold. Something about that just didn’t sound right…

He and Frank start laughing together, and the latter says, “I sure hope so!”

The delivery guy grins, drawing a thumb across his throat. “Oh, you are gonna make a killing!” He puts on a goofy voice to imitate Uncle Wiley’s from the commercials. “And that’s the Uncle Wiley’s Toys guarantee!” 

He takes his dolley back to the truck, and closes the doors up. He does a double take as he passes Lex and Ashleigh, winking at them. “Well, hello, Naughty List,” he purrs, before sauntering off to the truck cab and driving off.

“Gross!” Lex snaps, throwing her arms up, and Ashleigh just shudders.

Lex looks like she wants to go after the creepy guy, but Frank speaks up from where he’s caressing one of the boxes. “Excuse me ladies,” he drawls. “I don’t mean to bother you or anything, but do you think I could see some hustle out of you? On this, the most important shift of your life? On this, the holiest day in America for humble merchants across this fine nation?”

“If it’s a holy day, do we get time and a half?” Lex asks, and Franks glares at her.

“You know, you’ve got a real attitude problem,” he says sourly. “You’re snippy to customers, your no-good boyfriend’s always around. You’d think a drop out with a record would be  _ thankful _ to have a job! You wanna end up like your mother?”

Lex’s face flushes, glaring at their boss, while Ashleigh tries and fails to diffuse the situation. “No prospects,” Frank continues ruthlessly, “and two kids she can’t take care of? She dropped your sister on her head or whatever, but you… look at what a  _ fine _ job she’s done with you.”

He pretends to straighten out the front of Lex’s jacket, and Ashleigh finally manages to get his attention. Lex gives her a grateful look as she speaks.

“Look, Frank, do you want us to unpack these or what?” Ashleigh asks desperately, and he turns to her.

“That would be nice if our hot ticket item could be on our shelves when we open,” he snaps. 

“Fine!” Lex snaps right back.

“Thank you!” he yells sarcastically, storming back toward the door to go inside, but pauses when neither girl responds in favor of opening up the boxes. “Uh, ladies, do you have something to say back to me? Something a polite young woman might respond with?”

Lex rolls her eyes, glad she’s facing away from him. “Thank you?” she tries, but Frank shakes his head.

“No, no, no,” he says sternly. “Alexandra, I know this is hard for you, but try to keep up.  _ I  _ say thank you, so  _ you _ should say…?”

“You’re welcome,” Lex mutters, and Ashleigh repeats it half a second later. Frank claps his hands, sarcastically cheering for them.

“They  _ can _ be taught!” he exclaims. He starts to head back inside again, before pausing once more and getting Ashleigh’s attention.

“Just because you’re nicer to customers doesn’t mean you’re any better than her, Miss Maddox. You’ve got your own pile of shit to deal with. Good on you for not dragging it into my store all the time like she does.”

With that, he finally does go back inside. Both girls are now red faced with embarrassment and rage, neither saying anything. They’ve had a silent agreement since the day Ashleigh started and Frank picked on them like that in front of each other. 

After a few quiet moments, they resume their work. Lex takes a look around before pulling one doll out of the box and stuffing it into her backpack. Ashleigh pretends not to notice, already aware of the other girl’s plans for it. 

“Halt! Security!” a familiar voice cries out. “We got a shoplifter— drop that doll!”

The girls jump, startled, and pivot to face the newcomer, only relaxing when they realize it’s just Lex’s boyfriend, Ethan.

“Jesus Christ, Ethan, you fucking asshole,” Lex scolds, unable to keep from laughing. Ashleigh gives him a half-wave, which he returns while hugging his girlfriend.

“C’mon babe,” he teases. “It was just a goof!”

“Wait, where’s my sister?” Lex asks, looking around. Ethan pretends to panic.

“Oh, no,” he says, looking at her with wide eyes. “Hannah? Is that what you’ve been telling every day for the past four weeks? To pick up your kid sister? Oh, I must’ve forgot ‘cause I’m so stupid.” He hugs her, and Lex rolls her eyes. She’d started to panic, until it was obvious he was just ‘goofing’ again.

Ashleigh snickers, watching her friends. Three years ago, she never would’ve guessed she’d be calling them that, but here she is. They’re all in a similar boat these days, although Ashleigh’s still in school. If it weren’t for her desire to graduate, she probably would have taken up their offer of joining them— and Hannah— when they run away from Hatchetfield.

“She’s right over here,” Ethan says, grinning and letting go of Lex. “But I gotta warn you, she’s being a little snot today.” He goes over to the corner of the building, and drags a nine year old girl over by her wrist.

She’s got twin braids framing her face, and an oversized flannel as her only form of jacket. She’s pouting, too.

“Don’t pull her,” Lex chides, and Ethan quickly lets go and raises his hands in defense.

“I’m not,” he says quickly, as Lex goes to check on her sister.

Ashleigh gives her a quick wave, just as she had with Ethan, and Hannah shyly returns it. Lex tries to get her sister to wear the backpack, but the girl refuses. 

“Let me try,” Ethan sighs, and offers up a hat from his back pocket. He claims it can protect Hannah from anything bad that tries to hurt her, and she reluctantly takes it— she still won’t take the backpack, though, so Ashleigh gives it a go. 

“Are you still wearing the bracelet I gave you?” She asks, and Hannah nods. Ashleigh points to the one on her own wrist. “Me too. This means that neither of us can get hurt today. As long as I’m still wearing mine, it means you’ll be fine— and vice versa.”

Hannah bites her lips, fiddling with the teal and purple bracelet on her wrist. She also has a plain green one from Ethan. Finally, she nods and allows her sister to give her the backpack. 

“I’m gonna take these on in,” Ashleigh says, proud of herself, and wanting to give the other three some privacy. Maybe it’ll help keep Frank off Lex’s back today, too. She grabs a store-owned dolley and starts carting boxes inside, letting her friends have their moment together. 

Ashleigh’s not really looking forward to saying goodbye for good this afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2: The Bad Ending

Her voice crackles to life over the speaker system, as Frank unlocks the doors and allows the line of people to start moving forward.

“Alright, people,” Lex announces. “The doors are now opening!” The people in line chatter excitedly. Ashleigh can see Mr. Houston toward the front, surprisingly, chatting up a redhead in scrubs and a heavy winter coat.

“Please enter the store in an orderly fashion,” Lex continues loudly. “Those here to pick up a Tickle-Me-Wiggly—” the crowd erupts into whispers again, and many people wave and point to themselves— “you can get those at the checkout counter, but remember: they are first come, first serve, so  _ stay in line _ .”

The customers file in, surprisingly following the directions provided. A few chatter excitedly amongst themselves, but most are quiet as they anticipate what comes next. Lex guides the line to the registers, where Ashleigh’s waiting with a fake smile. Frank stands just behind Ashleigh, watching everything like a hawk.

“God, I’m gonna need a bottle of pepper spray,” Lex grumbles, joining them behind the counter. Frank shoots her a small glare before the first customer reaches them. It’s one they’re all too familiar with, a creepy older guy who has no business in a toy store, yet he’s in it every week.

“Oh, look!” Frank says loudly. “A valued customer! Good morning, sir, can I get you a Tickle-Me-Wiggly?”

“Yes,” the man squeaks, “in fact, I would like all of them.”

Ashleigh and Lex’s jaws drop, and the people behind the man in line gasp and grumble. 

“Wait, what?” Frank asks blankly. “Excuse me, sir, did my ears deceive me, or did you say you want to buy  _ all _ of them?”

“Yes.”

“As in the entire stock of eight hundred and fifty Wiggly’s—” 

_ 849 _ , Ashleigh thinks,  _ but Frank doesn’t need to know that _ .

Frank continues. “— at $49.95 each? That’s—”

“Forty-four thousand, nine hundrend and ninety-nine dollars, plus sales tax,” the man confirms, already pulling a wad of cash from the fanny pack at his waist. Frank gasps, grinning.

“Would you like them gift wrapped?” he asks, and the woman directly behind the customer shrieks.

“No!” she wails. “No, no, no! He can’t buy  _ all _ the dolls! Some of us have been waiting in line forever.” 

There’s some grumbling from the other customers at that statement, and Ashleigh has a feeling that this lady wasn’t one of those people who had been waiting long. She looked like the kind of woman who had probably bought her spot in line only a few minutes ago. She trades glances with Lex as Frank speaks again.

“Sorry, lady,” he says snidely, “first come, first serve. All sales are final. Could I interest you in a gummy bug maker?”

She scoffs at him, before turning on the creepy man who’d caused all the commotion. “ _ You _ should be ashamed of yourself, you disgusting little pervert. What’s a grown man going to do with 850 dolls?”

The guy grins to himself. “Well, one will stay in the box for posterity, and one will be used exclusively for bathtime—”

“This is unbelievable!” the woman yells, and Ashleigh can’t help but agree with her, as much as she hates it. The other customers do, too, by the looks of it.

“Lady, if you’re gonna make with the hysterics, take it to Macy’s!” Frank snaps at her, and her eyes flash dangerously. 

“How dare you,” she snarls, then speaks into her cellphone. “Are you hearing this, Gerald?  _ Yes, _ call my attorney!”

Meanwhile, the creepy man is still listing why he wants so many dolls, much to Lex and Ashleigh’s mounting disgust. “I will tickle one doll, and one doll will tickle  _ me _ .” He giggles, and Ashleigh tries not to gag.

Other customers are getting restless, too.

“I’ve been waiting here all night,” one complains. “I’m not leaving here without a doll!”

“And I’m in a hurry!” another declares.

Another man makes his way from further back in line, shoving his way past them all. He’s got a scarf and large rimmed-glasses, and Ashleigh recognizes him as one of Hatchetfield’s only lawyers.

He introduces himself to Frank, holding his hand out to shake, but Frank just stares at him in displeasure. “Hi, Gary Goldstein, attorney at law,” the lawyer says quickly. “I was a little further back in line.”

“Gary, thank God,” the woman drawls, and he goes over to her. 

“Are you aware that my client, Linda Monroe, suffers from a rare, little understood anxiety disorder? And that any lasting medical conditions which may arise from stress caused on these premises are  _ your _ liability, sir?”

Frank rolls his eyes, but Goldstein isn’t done. The woman, Linda, looks smug and  _ almost _ satisfied.

“I hope you have your finances in order,” he says threateningly. “Get ready for audits! Audits up your ears, audits in your yin-yang, audits out your wazoo—”

“Alright!” Frank shouts a few times. “We’re gonna try and be fair. We’re gonna put a limit on how many Wiggly’s each customer can purchase. One per person! You happy now?”

Linda’s face drops again. “ _ One _ ?” she asks. “Of all the arbitrary numbers, why one? It should be a nice, even number that we can all agree upon— like four!”

That seems oddly specific, and Ashleigh can’t help but roll her eyes this time. The other customers scoff and boo at Linda, who turns to them and says haughtily, “Well you can buy less if you want.”

“I thought all sales were final?” the creepy guy says frustratedly. 

“Look, you’re not getting all the Wiggly’s, you sicko,” Frank snaps, and the man flushes in anger.

“Well now you’ll be hearing from  _ my _ attorney!”

Goldstein jumps in again and quickly reintroduces himself as though he hadn’t just done so only a minute before. “Are you aware that my client, Sherman Young, is being discriminated against—”

“Oh, shut up, Gary!” Linda snaps, grabbing his shoulders and kneeing him in the crotch. He groans, stumbling away and muttering about his ‘subpoena’.

One of the other men in line, wearing a trench coat and a blue scarf, jumps out and brandishes his wallet. “Forget this line!” he yells. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars cash for one Wiggly.”

A smirk slowly works its way across Frank’s face, and Ashleigh groans. This  _ can’t _ be good.

“Now there’s an idea,” Frank chuckles. “Would you like it gift wrapped?”

The guy right behind Linda pipes up with an offer for seven hundred, and Lex tries to restore order. The guy in the trenchcoat shoves her away, and Mr. Houston tries to speak up for her, but the man cuts him off with a middle finger and a brief, “fuck you!”

Frank ignores the practical assault, holding one Wiggly doll over his head. “Show me the money, people!” He declares, and the customers start shouting numbers and waving wallets.

One guy breaks apart from the crowd. “This ain’t right!” he yells. “I lost my job when the plant closed. I can’t afford five hundred dollars for a doll! A Wiggly is $49.95!”

“Sorry, pal,” Frank sneers. “The price just went up!”

“Frank,” Ashleigh squeaks. 

“Supply and demand is a wonderful thing, isn’t it, Ashleigh?”

She trades nervous looks with Lex, who subtly shakes her head. 

“Whoever pays the most for a Wiggly, gets a Wiggly!” Frank says.

“Well if you’re not gonna sell me that doll,” the angry man snarls, “then I guess I’m just gonna have to take it!” 

He lunges, rushing the checkout counter and wrestling the furry little monster right out of Frank’s hands. All three employees try to get it back to no avail. The other customers mutter amongst themselves, staring at this guy in shock and awe. Ashleigh’s heart pounds in her chest, palms growing slick with a cold sweat as her anxiety takes over.

She wants to run, but she’s trapped between the counter and her boss, who would never let her go.

“Well, if he gets one, then I want four!” Linda declares, attempting to climb over the counter. Lex shoves her back off, but soon the other customers rush forward as well, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop them.

A fight breaks out between the first guy to make a bid, and the guy who’d grabbed the first doll. Fists fly between them, and suddenly there’s a flash of something metallic in the fluorescent lights, then screaming. The man in the trench coat stands above the bleeding corpse of the other guy, holding a blood-covered doll in his hand, and a knife in the other.

The other customers start fighting, too, punching and kicking and scratching each other. Ashleigh gets dragged by someone grabbing her wrist, and almost yanks away before she sees it’s just Lex, trying to help her get away.

Frank is uselessly trying to restore order.

—————

Hannah turns and starts to run when Ethan tells her to, but one of the men chases her down. He just misses her, hooking his fingers into the bracelets on her wrist. They snap right off, falling to the floor, and Hannah doesn’t notice until she’s already hiding inside the play place. 

The man gives up chasing her, and goes back to helping his friend beat and kick Ethan on the ground.

—————

Lex and Ashleigh almost make it to the back room before getting caught by Sherman Young and another man— Ashleigh recognizes him as the homeless guy who always hangs around Beanie’s— both with dangerous looks in their eyes. The girls try to split up, but the men grab them and pin them down, screaming in their faces about the damn dolls.

The homeless guy has Ashleigh, and he has blood dripping from a small gash in the side of his head. It trickles down his face, a drop landing on Ashleigh’s cheek as she sobs and tries to get away. 

Something like a hard punch hits her in the stomach, and Ashleigh curls up on her side, pressing her hands to the spot. They come away covered in hot, fresh blood, and Ashleigh realizes in a shocked stupor that she hadn’t been punched, but rather  _ stabbed _ . The sight of her own blood makes her head swim, and she can distantly hear someone crying. 

Maybe it’s Lex. Maybe it’s Ashleigh herself.

She can’t tell anymore.

Everything sounds like it’s underwater, as the pain swells. It’s no longer the dull punch she had felt before, but rather the sharp, blinding pain you’d expect from a stab wound. The weight of the homeless man pinning her down disappears, and Ashleigh feels so lightheaded that she might float away without him. 

Another ‘punch’, although this time she can feel the blade of the knife, and another and another. She lays helpless in a growing puddle of her own blood, whimpers slowly fading into nothingness.

Paler than she’d ever been before, Ashleigh stops breathing as her heart gives out, eyes slipping closed one final time.


	3. Chapter 3: The Reunion

_ Frank is uselessly trying to restore order. _

Lex and Ashleigh have to split up, unfortunately, when the homeless guy blocks their path. Lex barks at Ashleigh to run, both knowing that the former is the better fighter. Ashleigh doesn’t think she’s ever been in a fight in her life-- not a physical one, anyway. 

So she follows Lex’s orders and runs out the door and into the rest of the mall, trying to think of a place to hide. The other shops and stores are open, full of people fighting over more Wiggly’s that have been stolen from Toy Zone. 

She hurriedly sheds her work vest, not wanting to be identified as someone with any information about the doll, stuffing it in a trash can near the food court. She dumps other trash on top of it for good measure, and keeps going.

Coming across the Cineplex, Ashleigh is appalled to see two men beating the shit out of a familiar figure huddled on the ground, and hides behind a support column in fear. 

_ Fuck _ , she thinks.  _ That’s Ethan. Where’s Hannah? She has Lex’s backpack with the Wiggly doll… shit. _

She peeks back over, and sees that Ethan’s attackers have vanished. Ashleigh looks around cautiously as she hurries over. Her friend is coughing weakly, blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth, as well as from a large gash on the side of his face. His leather jacket is unzipped, practically torn open, and blood covers the white tee-shirt underneath. He tries to sit up, but Ashleigh won’t let him.

“H-Hannah--” he stammers, trying to look around. “T-told her to run…”

“I’ll find her,” Ashleigh promises. “I’ll get her out of here, Ethan, but first I have to help you. How bad does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t,” he mumbles. “Not really… gotta find Hannah ‘n Lex… promised ‘em California. I think you’re gonna have to take ‘em for me, Ash.”

“You know I hate the beach, Green,” Ashleigh tries to joke, tears pooling in her eyes as he coughs again. She knows that ‘no pain’ is not a good sign like you’d like to believe. “You’re the one who promised to take them, so you have to be the one to do it.”

“I-- I’ll get you to California, Lex,” he slurs, eyes crossing slightly, and Ashleigh frowns as her tears spill over. “Then you don’t gotta cry so much no more.”

He goes limp in her arms, and Ashleigh has to bite back her sob. This isn’t the time or place to be loud, his attackers could come back any minute. Shaking, she gets to her feet and wipes her friend’s blood from her hands and onto her shirt. What now?

Backing up a couple steps, Ashleigh almost slips on something that’s been left on the linoleum. She bends down to pick it up, and her heart drops when she recognizes the green friendship bracelet in her palm. Looking back to Ethan, she can see the yellow one on his wrist, peeking out from under his sleeve. 

She scans her surroundings, and-- hearing footsteps rapidly approach-- ducks into the Cineplex ticket booth to hide. Someone else is already there, shaking in fear. His glasses are crooked, and his usually-neat bowtie is coming undone. He’s holding a wire coat hanger, bent out of shape to be a sort-of weapon, pointing it at her.

Peter, her former best friend.

She hasn’t spoken to him since… well, since the day her dad died, when she’d called Peter to tell him, and he’d hung up on her after snapping that he was busy. That had been three years ago, almost four. Everything else in her life had just gone downhill from there.

He eyes her distrustfully, but slowly lowers his ‘weapon’ and lets her hide with him. The footsteps outside the booth are much louder, now, accompanied by voices. Ashleigh recognizes Mr. Houston’s, but he’s talking with some woman. There’s a feminine gasp, and the woman exclaims someone’s death. Mr. Houston says it’s Ethan, and Ashleigh bites down on her hand to keep from making noise.

Peter looks to her with concern, but doesn’t make any noise, either.

More footsteps. A scuffle. A scream.

A cry of pain. Laughter. More footsteps. 

Ashleigh instinctively curls into Peter’s side, burying her face in his shoulder. He tenses up at the sudden contact, but doesn’t push her away. After several minutes of tense silence, he carefully gets up to peek over the counter, before crouching back down.

“They’re gone,” he says quietly.

Ashleigh doesn’t respond, shaking as her anxiety overwhelms her. She can feel her heart pounding, blood rushing under every square inch of her skin, and everything seems too loud, too bright, too much.

She whimpers, digging her nails into her palms, curling up in a ball under the counter. Her friend is dead-- he’d died in her arms, and there had been nothing she could do to save him. She’d promised to find Hannah, but what if she’s too late, and the nine year old is already dead, too? She has a doll, the one everyone wants. They’d killed that man at Toy Zone for one. 

They’d killed Ethan for one.

Peter crouches in front of her, trying to calm her down without touching her. 

“Ashleigh?” he whispers. “Ash, it’s me. I need you to breathe, okay? Or else they’re gonna find us.”

“Just go then,” she snaps quietly. But Peter shakes his head.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says. “Especially not like this.”

“You were fine almost four years ago,” she mutters. “When my dad died, and you were too  _ busy _ for me.”

Peter freezes. “I didn’t know,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t know. My mom had just left us that day, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, and I’m  _ sorry. _ Let me try to make up for it now, please?”

After a long moment, Ashleigh nods and leans into him, muffling her cries into his shirt. He holds her, rubbing her back, whispering soothing words until she eventually calms down. When she does, she pulls away.

“We should go before they come back,” Peter whispers, but Ashleigh shakes her head.

“I promised Ethan I’d find Hannah,” she mumbles, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Peter looks confused.

“His girlfriend’s little sister,” she clarifies. “Lex Foster’s sister. She’s only nine, and she’s autistic. She’s gotta be freaking out right now, if she isn’t already d--” Ashleigh has to cut herself off, not wanting to entertain the idea.

“Okay,” Peter sighs. “Okay, let’s go find Hannah and get her out of here.”

“And Lex,” Ashleigh adds. “I shouldn't have left her at Toy Zone, but she told me to run…”

“Lex seems like the kind of girl who knows how to fight,” Peter assures her, and she nods.

Peter gets to his feet, holding out a hand for Ashleigh to haul herself up with. Even once they’re both standing, neither makes any effort to let go. After an awkward moment, he pulls her out of the ticket booth and they sneak down the empty corridor. It’s oddly quiet, especially compared to earlier.

In a building this big, it’s unnerving.

Ashleigh hadn’t thought to ask Ethan which way Hannah had gone, so she tries to think like Hannah. She likes small spaces when she has her meltdowns-- the enclosement makes her feel safe. Ashleigh goes over to a nearby map of the building, scanning it for other ideas. Peter keeps watch. 

A bathroom? No, that’s too obvious, and not really small enough.

A closet, maybe? Those might be locked up, Hannah wouldn’t be able to get in, not in time to hide from someone who wanted what’s in the backpack.

What about…  _ there. _ That’s it.

“The play place,” she murmurs, eyeing the store name  _ Marshall’s _ . “She’s gotta be there. Come on!” She grabs Peter’s hand again and pulls him along, both being careful to not make too much noise. 

Footsteps echo behind them, and Peter turns. There’s no one there yet, but they’re just around the corner. He pulls Ashleigh into the nearest shop-- a Yankee Candle-- and behind the checkout counter in the back. They crouch together, barely breathing as the footsteps pass by the store.

She starts shaking again, hearing multiple voices from just outside. 

One of them is the mall’s chief security officer, a kind man who often walked Ashleigh to her bike if she had a later shift. Another is a man she recognizes as Gary Goldstein. She doesn’t recognize the third voice.

They’re talking about how the entrances are getting sealed off, to keep any more people from escaping with a doll. How ‘the prophet’ had ordered it done.

Peter holds her close, quietly rubbing her back like he had earlier, and buries his face in her hair to muffle his own breathing. The voices fade out, and so do their footsteps. 

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Ashleigh mumbles, clinging to Peter. “What happened, exactly?”

“I haven’t heard from her since she left,” he whispers. “Moved to Clivesdale with her new boyfriend or something. ‘M not sure. Dad doesn’t like to talk about it, but I know he knows where she is. I just don’t know if I really care, you know?”

“I get it,” she mutters. “I haven’t seen my mom since I turned sixteen and filed for emancipation.”

“Wait, what?” Peter asks. “Why?”

“She started drinking after Dad died,” she says quietly. “And some other shit. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left. Got an apartment, two jobs. I thought about going with Lex and Ethan to California-- they were supposed to leave today. Lex nicked a doll this morning, they were gonna sell it-- but I wanted to graduate from Hatchetfield first.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. “If I’d had any idea… Dad and I would’ve done something. We would’ve helped you-- and I know it’s my own fault that I didn’t know. I should’ve listened to you that day.”

Ashleigh bites her lip, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “We both had our own shit to worry about. We can share the blame for this.”

He chuckles softly. “Okay,” he says softly, pushing some hair out of her face.

Peter gets up to check carefully, and Ashleigh follows when he whispers that the coast is clear. 

They keep heading toward Marshall’s, passing all the other bare-bone and abandoned stores, until they see the jungle gym itself. There’s no sign of Hannah, except for a small whimpering coming from the highest tunnels. 

Ashleigh’s about to rush forward to climb up there herself, when Peter grabs her hand and tugs her just inside the little tattoo parlour next to Marshall’s. She turns to snap at him, but he points to the pair of people slowly approaching the play place from another direction. 

It’s Mr. Houston, and the redheaded woman he was standing with in line earlier. Her hair’s down now, and her heavy coat is gone. There’s a bloodstain on Mr. Houston’s shirt, but it’s not spreading. They stop walking when they notice the play place, and the redhead points right to where Hannah is.

Ashleigh’s heart sinks. This can’t be good.

They call out to Hannah, and the nine year old surprisingly responds. 

“Don’t worry, kid,” Mr. Houston says soothingly. “We don’t get tricked, we’re grownups.”

Ashleigh holds back a small snort. Since when were grownups invincible? Every adult in Ashleigh’s life so far has only let her down, one way or another. 

“You can trust us,” the redhead adds. “We’re good people-- woah, wait! Where’re you going, sweetheart?”

Ashleigh doesn’t hear Hannah’s response, but the two adults do. They turn and giggle to each other, exaggerating their surprise. They say something else that Ashleigh and Peter can’t hear, and Mr. Houston takes a couple steps closer to the play place.

The teens duck away from the curtained window, as the redhead turns and looks around carefully. Ashleigh tries to catch her breath, staring at Peter with wide eyes. 

_ I have to do something, _ she mouths to him, and he nods, looking pained.

_ We need a plan, _ he mouths back.

Hannah’s fearful shriek gets their attention, and the teens can hear the adults arguing about it. Ashleigh peeks back through the curtain to see the redhead pull a syringe out of her scrubs pocket, and mutters a curse under her breath.

“Why the fuck does she keep sedatives in her pocket like that?” she mumbles, and jumps when she feels Peter squeeze her hand. She hadn’t even realized they were still holding them. It had just felt so natural.

The redhead starts calling out for Hannah, trying to lure her in with promises of candy and games. Ashleigh starts to move, wanting to help, especially when Mr. Houston starts trying to climb up the jungle gym to flush Hannah out. Peter yanks her back, shaking his head quietly. 

She gives him a desperate look, but he’s insistent that she wait. He points to the direction of Toy Zone, where the security officer, Gary Goldstein, and two other men are sneaking over to the play place. 

There’s another shriek from Hannah, and Ashleigh looks back to her just time to see the redhead stab herself in the leg with the syringe, pinning Hannah to the floor. Mr. Houston grabs the Wiggly doll out of Hannah’s arms and walks away. 

The men coming from Toy Zone must not notice him, because they go straight for Hannah and the redhead. 

_ Fuck, there goes our chance _ , Ashleigh thinks.  _ What now? _

Suddenly, Ashleigh sneezes, and the men turn toward them. Peter tries to tug her over to a hiding spot, but it’s too late. Two of the men rush over, one of them grabbing Ashleigh forcefully. She tries to struggle, but stops when he puts a knife to her throat. Peter doesn’t struggle, only begs them not to hurt Ashleigh. She’s not sure why he’s not begging for his own life, too.

The men give no indication that they heard Peter, dragging them both back to the place where this all began, alongside Hannah and the unconscious redhead.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4: The Cult

Hannah keeps looking to Ashleigh for reassurance, behaving for the sake of the knife at the teen’s throat. Peter does the same, although he keeps begging for their captors to let Ashleigh and Hannah go. They tell him to shut up, the one holding Ashleigh pressing the knife a little harder against her. 

Peter shuts up. 

Their captors drag them to Toy Zone, cheering about something or another to do with Wiggly, with that  _ prophet _ they’d mentioned before. 

When they enter Toy Zone, Linda Monroe is waiting for them on top of a stack of crates near the checkout counter. She’s on the phone with Gerald, just as she had been when Ashleigh had last seen her.

“Yes, Gerald, I’m about to get the doll,” she drawls, sounding all too pleased with herself in Ashleigh’s opinion. “Yes, they found the child… no, I’m not going to put you on  _ speaker _ , Gerald, no one wants to talk to  _ you _ .” She rolls her eyes and covers the microphone on her cell with her hand, addressing the crowd forming below her as she climbs down the crates.

“Yes, bring the heretics to me!” she declares, and laughs to herself. “Oh, Becky Barnes! Why am I not surprised? Of course I’d find  _ you  _ here, clinging to your antiquated sense of justice. Protecting this child because you can’t have any of your own?”

The redhead, Becky, is still unconscious and unresponsive. Linda’s not happy about that, and scoffs. The knife is finally removed from Ashleigh’s throat, but neither she nor Peter bother to make any attempt to escape now. There’s no point— they’re surrounded by Linda’s followers. There are at least a dozen of them, maybe more, and Ashleigh recognizes them from the line that morning. Some she even recognizes from the last several months, regulars at Toy Zone with their kids. It breaks her heart to see them like this, and she wonders where those children are right now.

Linda calls Becky’s name waspishly. “Wake up! Belittling you isn’t fun if you’re not upset.” Becky doesn’t respond, and Linda smirks. “Huh… she’s drunk.  _ Again _ . The only man that will have her now is… Jack Daniels!” She lets out a short bark of a laugh, before snapping at the two followers holding Becky up to take her away.

She turns to address Hannah next, and the guy holding the nine year old drags her closer by her hair as she cries out. “And  _ you _ , you little shit,” Linda growls. “For too long you have kept the shepherd from his flock.”

_ What the hell is that supposed to mean? _ Ashleigh thinks.  _ Is this some kind of cult? That would explain ‘the prophet’... _

“Take those two away, as well,” Linda says, eyeing Ashleigh and Peter in disdain. “Let them rot with the drunkard.”

“N-no!” Ashleigh starts struggling as the knife comes back out. “Hannah! No!”

She hears the girl mumble to herself about the hat, and watches as Linda snatches it off her head, laughing. Ashleigh can’t see anything else when she’s shoved into a supply closet with Peter and the still-sleeping Becky. The door gets slammed shut behind them, and Ashleigh can hear the click of the lock. She bangs on the metal door, begging to be let out.

Peter pulls her away from it and holds her close as she starts to cry.

She knows it’s useless. The door can’t be unlocked from the inside, she’d learned that the hard way.

She’d gotten locked in this closet once, back in her first week working at Toy Zone. It had been an accident-- she’d gone to get a mop and bucket to clean up a spilled drink someone had brought in, and the door had swung closed behind her. Frank had yelled at her when he’d finally found her, convinced she had been hiding to avoid doing any work. 

Of course, the truth was that she’d been having a panic attack while she was trapped there. Ashleigh isn’t a fan of small spaces if she can’t easily get out of them. Frank hadn’t believed her. And now her panic at being trapped in a confined space is compounded with her worry about Hannah— about Lex, whom she hasn’t seen since this morning when Ashleigh ran like a coward. 

Peter holds her, rubbing her back to try to calm her down. She cries into his shoulder, staining his shirt with her tears, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“We’ll find a way out of here,” he says softly. “We’ll get Hannah back, we’ll find Lex, we’ll get out of here. We can do this, Ash.”

The redhead, Becky, crumpled in a heap at the teens’ side, starts to stir. She mumbles incoherently as she wakes, holding her own head and wincing. 

“Wha’ happened?” she slurs, eyes slowly blinking into focus. At least their captors had left the closet light on for them. 

“You tried to attack and sedate a little girl,” Peter says, giving her a side eye. “You ended up getting yourself instead.”

“Fuck,” Becky groans. “That damn doll… I don’t know what came over me. Is the girl okay?”

“We don’t know,” Peter answers, still trying to soothe Ashleigh. “That crazy blonde lady has her.”

“Linda,” Becky sighs. “Of course she’s behind all this. Where are we?”

“T-Toy Zone,” Ashleigh mumbles. “S-supply c-closet. Locked.”

“We’re trapped?” Becky asks, and Peter nods grimly. Becky looks around for an alternative escape, and sees a vent panel in the ceiling. She points to it. 

Ashleigh starts to calm down, pulling away from Peter to look at where Becky’s pointing. “H-how are we supposed t-to reach that? These are n-nine foot ceilings.”

“I used to be a cheerleader in high school,” Becky says. “If you guys can give me a boost, I can reach it. I’ll double around to let you guys out, and we can find our friends and get out of here.”

“Your boyfriend escaped with the Wiggly doll,” Peter tells her. “We saw it. He took it and left you unconscious on top of Hannah.”

Becky frowns as the memory returns to her. “It wasn’t him,” she says quietly. “That doll… there’s something about it. It’s like it takes over every part of you until all that’s left is the desire for it. When I held it, it felt like all my problems went away.”

“How do we know you’re not just gonna leave us here so you can find the doll and take it for yourself again?” Ashleigh asks. “How do we know you’ve really changed your mind about that thing?”

“I guess you don’t,” Becky admits. “But I’m the only chance we’ve got to get out of here, unless you want to give it a try.”

Ashleigh eyes the vent panel, before looking to Peter again, then finally to Becky. “I’m not leaving him,” she says quietly. 

“Then you’ll just have to trust me,” Becky says with a sigh. 

“I don’t like it,” Peter mumbles, “but she’s right.”

“Yeah,” Ashleigh says, nodding.

She and Peter get to their feet, and get into a position to help give Becky a leg up. Each of them interlocks their own fingers, keeping their hands face-up and parallel to the ground, at an even height to the other’s. Becky steps into Peter’s first, then Ashleigh’s, putting her hands on their shoulders for balance. The teens lift her in unison, until she’s just able to reach the vent panel. Becky has to put her foot on Ashleigh’s shoulder to stay even with the one still in Peter’s hands. 

Ashleigh’s sure there’ll be bruises, but right now she doesn’t care. 

Becky manages to push the vent panel out of the way and climb in. Peter flexes his fingers as she disappears. 

“I’ll be back for you guys,” Becky hisses, popping her head back through the hole. “Just stay calm, and remember to breathe.”

She vanishes again, moving along the vent almost silently. If Ashleigh didn’t know what the sound was, she’d think it was just the air conditioning or the central heating making the metal distort and make the noise. 

She slumps against the wall, sliding to the floor, rubbing her shoulder where Becky’s foot had been. Peter sits down next to her. Leaning against him, she closes her eyes. 

“I’m sorry about the last couple of years,” he mumbles, wrapping an arm around her. 

“Me too,” she sighs, and bites her lip. If she doesn’t say it now, she may never get another chance. “Peter, in case we don’t make it out of here—“

“We will,” he insists, but Ashleigh opens her eyes and sits up, shaking her head. 

“Please, listen to me,” she begs quietly, grabbing his hand. “In case we don’t make it out of here, I want you to know something. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but you were my best friend and I was terrified to ruin that.”

“Ashleigh…”

“I need to say it.” She takes a deep breath, still a little shaky from her earlier panic attacks. 

“Ashleigh, I love you,” Peter says quickly. 

Her lips part slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. He looks nervous, but determined and serious. More sincere that she’s ever seen. 

“I love you, too,” she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. She throws her arms around him and hugs him close, burying her face in his neck. His arms wrap securely around her, holding her in place as she starts to cry again. 

“I was so scared I’d lost you for good,” he murmurs. “But you’re right here.  _ I’m _ right here. Whatever happens now, we’re in this together.”

She nods, holding him tighter. 

“Together,” she mumbles. 


	5. Chapter 5: The Good Ending

They’re only stuck there for a few more minutes before they hear a gunshot, startling both teens. After that, there’s a moment of silence, then screaming. The voices don’t sound familiar, thank God, but it’s still horrifying to listen to.

The door opens suddenly, and Becky appears with Mr. Houston, as well as Lex, Hannah, and…

“Ethan?!” Ashleigh gapes, standing up quickly and hugging him. He stumbles a little, but hugs her back. “I thought you were dead! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you there—”

“It’s not your fault,” Becky and Ethan both say, just out of sync.

“I thought he was dead, too,” Becky continues. “I’m a nurse, I should have been able to—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Lex snaps impatiently. “Ethan’s alive, it’s great, but can we do this  _ outside _ the burning mall?”

“The  _ what _ ?” Peter asks, and Mr. Houston leads them all out of the building. 

Sure enough, there’s smoke and heat coming from the front of the store, where it met the rest of the mall. Ashleigh can see the flames rising higher and higher, spreading quickly.

Peter grabs her hand, pulling her faster. Some of the structural support columns collapse behind them, and the roof begins to creak. Just as the doors swing shut behind the last of the group, part of the ceiling collapses. 

But it doesn’t matter. They’ve made it out.

They’re alive.

Hannah clings to Ethan and Lex, Ashleigh clings to Peter, and Mr. Houston and Becky cling to each other. They all get far enough away from the blaze, to where Mr. Houston deems them safe for now. 

“So what happened?” Peter asks, tearing his eyes away from the mall to look at Becky.

“I shot Linda,” she says simply. Mr. Houston squeezes her hand.

“Lex burned Wiggly,” Hannah adds in a mumble. “Fire… bad blood… safe house.”

“The fire,” Mr. Houston says, watching it. “It spread so fast…”

“The whole mall’s coming down,” Becky agrees.

“Good,” Ashleigh and Lex scoff in unison, before glancing at each other and laughing a bit.

A car pulls up behind the group, and they all turn to see who it is. For Ashleigh, it’s two familiar faces— her coworker from Beanie’s, Emma, and Emma’s not-quite-boyfriend, Paul. 

“Tom!” Emma calls, rushing toward them. “Ashleigh?”

The teen gives her a half-wave, tired and leaning on Peter for support. Emma turns back to Mr. Houston, grabbing his arm.

“Oh my God, you’re alive!” Emma sighs.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asks, confused, then growing concerned. “Where’s Tim?”

“He’s in the car. He’s fine,” Emma assures him, and he visibly relaxes.

“We saw what happened to Lakeside on the news,” Paul jumps in, and Emma nods.

“It’s not just Hatchetfield,” she says. “The whole world has gone crazy.”

“Somebody nuked Moscow!” Paul cries, and everyone looks to him. “The news was saying it might be World War III, until the news went out…”

“We were sure you were gone,” Emma tells Mr. Houston— Tom— softly. “We were gonna take Tim and get out of town, but… he wouldn’t let us. All he wanted was you.”

Tom’s quiet for a moment, and Becky squeezes his hand. “Emma, I’ve been avoiding it for too long,” he says. “But I think it’s finally time we sit down, as a family, and talk about Jane.”

Emma gives him a small smile and a nod, and Paul puts his hand on Emma’s shoulder. “That sounds great, Tom, but let’s talk on the move,” Paul says.

“Well where can we go?” Ashleigh asks. “Is any place safe?” Peter squeezes her hand, and she sniffles.

“You know, I have this kooky, reclusive biology professor…” Emma says. “He lives on the edge of town— his house is like a panic room. We could go there.”

“That’s a great idea, Emma,” Tom says.

“Well I hope he doesn’t mind us showing up unannounced,” Paul sighs. “We can’t call him; the phones stopped working. I don’t even know what time it is! What am I supposed to do without my iPhone?”

“... wear a watch?” Hannah suggests, and Lex and Ethan snicker.

Tom looks at the one on his wrist. “It’s 11:57,” he says. “We better get going.”

Emma leads them all back to the car, which just so happens to be parked right near Ethan’s. The group splits up between the two, and Lex (driving Ethan’s car because of his concussion) follows Emma to a big house on the edge of town. It has a half-wall fence all the way around the property, with barbed wire on top, and a gate at the base of the driveway.

Emma buzzes them in, just as military jets fly overhead. An older guy with silver hair and a shotgun ushers them all inside, glaring suspiciously at everyone but Emma. His gaze softens a little when he sees Hannah. Emma introduces him as Professor Hidgens, before he disappears into his basement. She shows everyone around.

There are a few bedrooms, a few bathrooms, and a fully stocked doomsday pantry. Ashleigh makes some hot chocolate for everyone who wants some— just the four teens and two children— and Becky checks Ethan over on the couch. She declares he has a concussion and some bruised ribs, maybe a broken one, and his wrist is sprained. Emma shows them the first aid kit, and Becky gets started on wrapping him up.

Hannah curls up in his lap and falls asleep, and Lex brings a blanket over, draping it over all three of them, before falling asleep as well. Ethan’s not far behind once Becky’s through with him. 

Tom passes out in one of the beds, the little boy— his son, Tim— curled into his side. Paul finds another room and lays down. Emma heads down to the basement, searching for her professor.

Ashleigh drags Peter to a third bedroom and curls up with him. He plays with her hair, kissing the top of her head. 

“I hope my dad’s okay,” he mutters.

“I hope he is, too,” Ashleigh replies softly. “Can’t say I care about my mom, though.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Peter says. 

Ashleigh pulls the blankets up over them, and lays her head on his chest. He takes his bowtie and glasses off, setting both on the nightstand next to the bed, before wrapping his arms back around her and kissing the top of her head again. She traces patterns on his chest, right in front of her face. Hearts, stars, infinity symbols. He smiles softly, staring up at the ceiling, and sighs contentedly. 

“I love you,” he whispers, and now it’s Ashleigh’s turn to smile in the darkness. 

“I love you, too,” she whispers. 

She sits up for a moment, just so she can press a soft kiss to his lips. He cups her face with one hand, kissing her back. It’s so much better than the ‘practice’ one they had when they were thirteen. 

Pulling away, she lays back down the way she’d been before, and resumes her drawing. Peter slowly falls asleep, soothed by the gentle touch of her finger.

As tired as she is, Ashleigh can’t sleep. She just lays there, listening to Peter’s heartbeat, until the sun rises the next morning.

Tomorrow has come.


	6. Chapter 6: The True Ending

Several minutes pass in silence after Becky leaves, then there’s some shouting from outside the closet— then a gunshot. Ashleigh and Peter both jump at the noise, clinging to each other for comfort, hoping against all odds that it’s not Becky who’s been shot, or Lex or Hannah.

Another silent moment, and then screaming.

Footsteps echo, growing closer to the supply closet where the two teens are still locked inside, and they jump to their feet. Peter tries to push Ashleigh behind him, but she’s tired of cowering. She grabs his hand, ready to face whoever comes. The door swings open.

It’s Becky, and Mr. Houston. Lex and Hannah are with them, and Ashleigh sighs in relief, hugging the two closely. 

“We heard the gunshot,” she says. “I was afraid it was one of you!”

“We’re okay,” Lex says, hugging her back briefly. “Becky shot Linda, that’s all.”

“Fire,” Hannah mumbles. “Bad blood.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Houtson says grimly. “We gotta get out of here. The mall’s coming down.”

“Oh, God,” Ashleigh mumbles, pulling away from Hannah and Lex.

Mr. Houston starts leading them back through the store, but the back exit— where the delivery bay is— is blocked off by the growing fire. Lex takes the lead, showing everyone another back exit. The roof creaks and groans above them, and Mr. Houston easily scoops Hannah up in his arms when she cries out in fear, carrying her the rest of the way.

They make it out of the doors first, Lex and Becky right on their heels.

Ashleigh has to pause to cough from all the smoke, and Peter grabs her hand to pull her along.

“We’re almost there,” he encourages, and Ashleigh nods slowly, covering her mouth with her elbow. 

The roof creaks again, and time seems to stand still. Looking up in horror, she shoves Peter out of the door with both hands just as the roof collapses.

—————

“Magic hat!” Hannah cries. “Nothing can hurt me!”

Linda just laughs. “You little fool,” she sneers. “You think  _ this _ is going to protect you? A magic hat!” She laughs again. “That’s ridiculous. Only  _ dolls _ are magic— and I’ll be taking mine, thank you.”

She rips the backpack away from Hannah, who turns to her bracelets instead for comfort— but there’s only one left. Ethan’s green one is long gone, lost somewhere during when that man had tried to chase her before Ethan tackled him. All that’s left is the teal and purple one Ashleigh had given her. Linda sees her, and smirks.

“Let me guess, you think that bracelet is going to protect you, too?” she coos, coming back over and hooking one finger into it. She yanks, and it pops right off, the knot holding it in place coming undone all too easily.

“Not me,” Hannah whimpers. “Not for me…”

—————

Ashleigh coughs again, stumbling back out of the way of the fallen ceiling. At least the smoke has another place to go, now. She can just barely hear Peter screaming on the other side of all the debris, and it sounds like the others are joining in, too. Retracing some of her steps, she tries to find another exit. The entrance to the rest of the building is open, although it won’t be for long.

Running for it, Ashleigh dodges some more burning debris. There’s the horrible smell of burnt meat filling her nose, and she decides she doesn’t want to know just how many bodies have been left to turn to ash.

The fire spreads quickly, and she struggles to find an exit that hasn’t been blocked by the flames. Finally, near the tattoo shop she and Peter had hidden in earlier, she finds one, and bolts to it. Of course they’re locked.

Thinking quickly, she grabs a chair from the waiting area of the tattoo shop and smashes it against the window to the outside. Fresh air rushes at her, and she scrambles out, cutting herself on some glass.

—————

Linda smirks, ignoring Hannah’s whimpers, and drops the bracelet at the girl’s feet. Hannah snatches it up and shakily re-ties the knot when Linda isn’t looking, and slips it back on her wrist. She covers it with her sleeve.

—————

Ashleigh gets a decent distance from the building, and loops her way back around to try and meet up with the others. She gets there just as everyone’s starting to pile into a car, and she hoarsely calls out to them.

Peter sees her and runs to meet her in the middle, wrapping her up in a tight hug. He sobs into her hair. Ashleigh hugs him back, breathing deeply. She’s covered in soot by this point, and her arms are covered in bloody scratches, but neither of them care. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he begs, and she shivers. It had been cold all day, but after the heat from the burning building, it seemed even colder. “I thought we were in this together, Ash.”

“‘M sorry,” she mumbles. “Next time, I’ll let the roof collapse on both of us.”

“That’s not funny,” Lex calls out to them, and the pair finally separates.

“Come on,” someone else calls, and Ashleigh’s surprised to recognize it as Emma Perkins, her coworker from her other job at the local coffee shop. “We should get moving. It’s already midnight, and I don’t wanna wait too long to get somewhere safe…”

“Where are we going?” Ashleigh asks, letting Peter pull her to the car. She squeezes in with them, ending up in Peter’s lap. Hannah’s already in Lex’s, and there’s a little boy sitting in Mr. Houston’s up front. Becky sits on the other side of Lex and Hannah, and Emma’s driving.

“Emma has a professor who’s kind of prepared for this kind of thing,” Emma’s not-boyfriend Paul tells her from the hatchback trunk of the car, and Ashleigh nods slowly, after getting over the startlement.

“Right… Hidgens, right?” Ashleigh asks. “The one I helped you buy groceries for that one time?”

“That’s the one,” Emma confirms.

“This should be interesting, then,” Ashleigh mutters, curling into Peter, who’s holding her securely, like he’s afraid she may try to run off even when the car’s moving. She just smiles to herself, closing her eyes as she asks sleepily,

“Do you think he’d let me read the manuscript for his musical if I asked?”


End file.
